


Harry Potter and that one time Voldemort sent Harry to the past.

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fleamont is brother goals, Harry gets stuck in the weirdest situations, Harry has no clue what the is going on, Henry tries to be a good father, M/M, Possessive Tom Riddle, Sane Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Tom at one point just goes “fuck you slow burn”, Yess Voldemort is here, but not too slow, it happens slowly then all at once, sass master Harry Potter, simi slow burn but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Gathering his bearings Harry took a step forward, tilting his head up just so he could look Riddle in the eyes. “I’ll shake the head boy’s hand,” Harry says, standing on his tiptoes to get some form of equal leverage. Riddle’s face was uncomfortably close, close enough that Harry could smell the faint scent of mint and dark chocolate lingering on the boy’s tongue.“When the head boy earns my respect, biatch.”
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 46
Kudos: 346
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning* This is not beta read so If you see any error that irks you just let me know and i’ll try to fix it as soon as possible. ~Lily

Harry was seething, his jaw clenched, and eyes narrow at the insufferable head boy in front of him. Really, everything bad thing that has ever happen to Harry was his fault. He killed Harry’s parents, he killed Cedric, Hell he’s the reason Harry hasn’t gotten a decent night's rest since the Triwizard Tournament.

And now because Voldemort’s most recent offense (manipulating Harry into breaking in the ministry of Magic, second handedly murdering his Godfather, and quite literally trying to possess Harry’s body) throughout all of this the man somehow thrusts the-boy-who-lived so far back in time he has to sit across the great hall and watch the budding dark lord make utter fools of everyone, mind you not far enough to stop Hagrid from getting wrongfully accuse or save Moaning Myrtle’s life. No, certainly not, that would be too productive. Harry was sent back just far enough to be an inconvenience but not far enough to actually change the future, how nice. Fantastic. Great.

For the most part, Harry has been able to stay under the radar, so much that it was starting to freak the boy out. No one question why some random person suddenly showed up out of nowhere. Not the students or teachers, they all act like he’s been going to school here the whole entire time, like they’ve known him for years.

_“Harry!” Patty Pettigrew said loudly while linking their arms together. The green-eyed boy mentally cringes as the mousey girl clings to him. It wasn’t because Patty is Pettigrew’s Great Aunt or because her Great Nephew is a coward that got his parents killed, the girl was extremely nice and his parents betrayal has nothing to do with her but it always threw Harry off how familiar she acts around him._

_Harry remembers the first day he was sent here, remembers sitting down at the Gryffindor table feeling like he’s been hit with a memory charm one too many times and waiting for holy hell to unleash. He was expecting someone to call him out, ask who he is, or why he’s here. Instead, Patty flops down in the chair in front of him and started chatting with him about some party she went to the night before._

_“Harry! Do you remember when Olivender was caught making wands in the astronomy tower?” No, Harry does not remember that incident in the slightest. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, something uneasy settled in his bones, it was moments like this that makes Harry question if he really time traveled, some days felt like he was thrown into some alternate universe altogether. It was the only reasonable explanation of why everyone knew him.“You mean that weird Ravenclaw who graduated two years ago?”Victor Longbottom asked coming up from behind them. Victor was another person who acts overly familiar with him, his strong resemblance to Neville just makes it all the weirder. “Yeah, that one! I heard he was taking over his family’s shop.”_

Harry shook his head trying to focus on the literal psychopath in front of him, he’s been able to avoid Riddle for the past two months. It wasn’t hard really their in different houses, different years, and Riddle was probably one of the busiest students in Hogwarts history. Between all of his extra curricular’s, head boy duties, and mini death eater meetings the guy hardly has any free time. Which was good on Harry’s end it made it all the more easier to skirt around him.

That was until his Potter luck decided to screw him over.

“Riddle has agreed to tutor you.” Professor Binns said in his iconic monotone voice. Binns has never been Harry’s favorite teacher, the ghost had a way of making even the most exciting topics boring. But now Harry can confidently say he loathes the man. “I don’t need a tutor.” Was Harry’s blunt replay, a malicious smile starch across Riddle's face. It was so different from the charming grins he gives the other students, this was mean, cruel, a type of smile Voldemort would wear after successfully killing his victim. “It’s alright to ask for help.” Mockery was hidden in Riddle’s sweet tone. It made Harry’s blood boils, his fingers twitch with the urge to punch Riddle in his perfectly square jaw.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Harry said as pleasant and civil as physically possibly. “But I don’t think a tutor is necessary.” Binns grabs the bridge of his nose, an angry huff escaped from the ghost’s lips. “Mr. Potter you are on the verge of failing history of magic, this isn’t up for debate.”

“Can’t Victor tutor me instead? I’m sure there’s plenty of other things Riddle would rather be doing than spending what little free time he has tutoring me.” Harry insists, reaching into the farthest corner of his mind for some kind of excuse. “Oh, I don’t mind at all!” Riddle said pleasantly, Harry shoots the budding dark lord a fiery glare. One that hopefully said ‘shut the fuck up’ without the need for words.

“Longbottom is just barely passing himself.” Binns gave Harry a pointed glare, the-boy-who-lived shifts in his seat, he just knows there’s no getting out of this, fate likes messing with him and there’s nothing Harry can do about it. “Riddle will be tutoring you and that’s final.” The ghost professor looks over at Riddle. “I’ll leave the arrangements to you.” Riddle nods in agreement while swiftly following Harry to his feet. “Are Wednesdays good for you?”

The black-haired teen eyed the door wearily while he absentmindedly nodding in agreement. Escape was so near Harry could taste it. Being this close to baby Voldemort wasn’t healthy, the-boy-who-lived could already feel his blood pressure rising.

Harry’s attention snaps back to Riddle when the young dark lord clears his throat rather loudly, the older teen had his hand raise in position for a handshake. Harry made no move to return the gesture, his green eyes flicker form Tom Riddles lethally good looking face to his perfectly manicured hand. **“Harry,”** Riddle says in a way that was so much like Voldemort it made a violent shiver going down Harry's spine. “You shake the head boy’s hand out of respect.” There was a light teasing tone in Riddle’s voice as he forcefully grabs Harry’s hand. His hand was so much bigger than Harry’s own, The young dark lord’s long elegant fingers could wrap around Harry’s slim wrist, snapping them in half without a second thought. The-boy-who-lived has never felt more delicate before in his entire life.

Harry always knew he was a little smaller than your average sixteen-year-old, he’s come to terms with it a long time ago. But never before has Harry felt so breakable, so vulnerable like his whole entire being could be swallowed whole. He hates feeling so small.

Gathering his bearings Harry took a step forward, tilting his head up just so he could look Riddle in the eyes. “I’ll shake the head boy’s hand,” Harry says, standing on his tiptoes to get some form of equal leverage. Riddle’s face was uncomfortably close, close enough that Harry could smell the faint scent of mint and dark chocolate lingering on the boy’s tongue.“When the head boy earns my respect, biatch.”

Binns dramatically gasps from the other side of the room, like treason was just committed in his classroom. Harry doesn’t bother acknowledging the ghost, he was too busy relishing in the way young Voldemort’s dark eyes widened. It lasted only for a second but it was there! Harry saw it.

“I’m sorry?” Riddle’s voice was thick with amusement. The young dark lord squeezes his hand painfully, warningly. For a moment Harry imagines Tom crushing his hand, snapping his fragile fingers under his much larger palms like he was breaking little carrots in two. “Apologize accepted.” Harry rips his hand away while taking a couple of steps back, eager to put some distance between them.

“I’m free on Wednesdays around three,” Harry adds more so as an afterthought. Riddle nods his head, his chocolate curls framed his face perfectly. Harry wonders if there’s a spell that keeps your hair in place, it was the only logical explanation for Riddle’s forever tidy hairdo. “That works for me, I’ll meet you in the Library at three.” 

Harry nods in agreement, one foot already out the door. He needed to get away, far away from where ever baby Voldemort is at. He’s already been in his presence too long.

It didn’t occur to Harry until he was already back in the Gryffindor tower, snuggled up in bed for the night, thinking over today's events that Riddle calls Harry ‘Harry’ not Potter like people normally do when you first get acquainted with someone. No, Riddle seemed rather familiar with Harry. Horror started twisting inside his stomach, a deep bone-shaking chill ran through the-boy-who-lived. “Please don’t let this be some sick alternate universe where I’m friends with Tom Riddle!” The teen begs to the great beyond.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning* This is not Beta read so please don’t roast me too hard😂😅🥺

Harry repeatedly stabs his fork into the syrupy pancake in front of him, letting out all of his pent up frustration that’s been lying dormant beneath his skin for the past two months. It seems like no matter what time or dimension he was in Harry Potter can not escape Lord Voldemort. The man was there at every turn, like a shadow that won’t leave him alone!

Harry sat facing the Slytherin stable, eyes steadily watching the man that was very much like the devil sweet talk his followers. It was disgusting how the other Slytherins sat at the edge of their seats, totally enraptured by whatever baby Voldemort was saying. Like he was the most interesting human in the universe.

Harry was moments away from viciously stabbing his pancake again when Victor’s hand catches his wrist, Victor and Patty sent each a look from across the table that was so painfully similar to looks Ron and Hermione send each other it made Harry’s heartache. 

“Rough morning?” Victor asks with a nervous chuckle, concern written on his features. Harry huffs in frustration willing all his pent up anger to melt away.

“You could say that,” Harry says weakly, the-boy-who-lives drops his fork forcing himself to take slow steady breaths. Since coming here Harry’s been unnecessarily angry all the time like there’s a little ball of fury in his chest that continues to grow with each passing day. He hates this, he hates feeling like this, all these negative emotions was consuming him, and the worst part was Harry doesn’t know how to make it stop.

Harry grimaces while looking down at his platter, the pancake is a mushy mess it looked like someone thoroughly chewed it before deciding to spit it out. “There’s just a lot going on in my mind right now.”

“Enlighten us.” Patty chirps while pouring herself hot chocolate in a teacup.

Harry mull over his words, there’s been something he’s been wanting to conform with them but just doesn’t know the right way to go about it without sounding like a complete weirdo. “I’m failing magical history,” Harry says slowly.

Victor pats his back sympathetically, face slightly pitched. “That blows mate, I’d offer to help but I'm not doing much better myself.”

“Is that why you went to Professor Binns's office last night?” Patty asks while inhaling her chocolate beverage, savoring the scent before taking a sip.

“Yeah, he wants Riddle to tutor me,” Harry said, his tongue dripping with venom.

“That’s unfortunate,” Patty says with a dry voice. Harry perks up, hope dares to build in his chest. 

“You think so?” Excitement clear in his voice.

Patty snorts “No,” she says while pouring chocolate sauce all over her bacon “do you know how many times I’ve purposely failed a class just to have Tom Riddle tutor me?” The mousy looking girl slams the glass bottle on the table, looks Harry dead in the eye as she puts whip-cream on her chocolate-covered bacon. “A lot, he’s easy on the eyes and a good tutor I don’t see the problem.”

Victor stared horrified at the girl as she sprinkles the wizard version of chocolate jimmies on top of the whip-cream “That's disgusting.” He says.

Harry‘s nose twitch’s “More like desperate.”

Patty rolls her eyes as she takes a bit of her sugar-coated meat “You know I’m right.” She mumbles.

“It doesn’t matter how good looking he is when Riddle is ugly inside, let’s not forget evil very evil!” Harry explains, desperate for his two friends to understand.

“Maybe,” Victor’s voice trails off while he shifts awkwardly in his seat “evil is taking it a little too far...” 

Harry huffs, hysteria bubbling in his belly. “Too far? Look at him,” They all look towards the Slytherin table, watching as the budding dark lord says something that makes everyone at the table laugh. “Riddle might look like your typical selfish, manipulative, backstabbing, slut-face, hoe-bag but he is so much more than that!”

Victor hums “and this has nothing to do with what happened last year?” He asks giving Harry a concerned look.

Every bone, muscle, and organ freezes in Harry’s body “last year.” He says, mouth running on autopilot.

A small frown tugs at Victor's lips “I know you don’t like talking about it but-”

Harry's hands cover Victor's mouth, stopping him mid-sentence “What happened last year?” He questions, eyes searching his new friend's faces. 

Patty opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, unsure of what to say. “Actually, what did happen last year? I don’t remember.”

Victor shrugs while gentle removing Harry's hands. “I’m not too sure the incident was very hush-hush.”

Great. Just great. This was exactly what Harry needed, a mysterious school mystery that involves some version of himself and a future dark lord! Harry turns his attention back to the Slytherin table to find a pair of dark depthless eyes watching him. Riddle’s gaze was burning, unreadable, something was going on in his mind and it frighted Harry to his core. Then the unthinkable happens Tom Riddle AKA Lord Voldemort his parent's murderer flirtatious winked at him. Him, Harry Potter.

Harry abruptly stood up, gathering his belongings. “Where are you going?” Patty asks as she watches him have a mental breakdown for the second time this morning.

“I’m going throw myself off the astronomy tower.”

Victor practically jumps off his seat “Hey now, let’s not do anything hasty,” He says with a nervous chuckle. “Why don’t we go take a walk instead?”

Patty shrugs pulling out her ancient runes book.   
“I wouldn’t recommend it, class starts in fifteen minutes and Merlin knows you can’t afford any more absent days. Besides,” she says while fixing Harry with a look. “He wasn’t being serious.”

No, he wasn’t, but Victor still looked so unsure and worried like Harry was seconds away from self-destruction. (Bless his soul) “I just need some alone time before class starts,” Harry says, trying to reassure the Neville lookalike.

Harry needed a moment to himself, too clear his head. Everything is so messed up the boy-who-lived doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore, in fact, Harry doesn’t think he ever knew what was going on, to begin with.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry lightly traces the hard, leather spines of some random books he passes while walking down the aisle. The scent of wet ink and parchment lingers in the air, and the sounds of quills scratching against paper could be heard at every corner of the library. The library. It’s a place Harry’s been actively avoiding for a month now everything here reminded him of Hermione. Her very essence seems to be embedded in these walls. Harry swears he’s seen ghosts of her from the corner of his eyes, browsing through the books like it’s another normal day, but when he turns to her, try’s to reach for her she’s gone. Not even a single trace of her is left behind.

The whole ordeal feels like a punishment, a painful reminder that he’s alone here. There’s no Ron here to cheer him up with goofy story’s and stupid jokes or Hermione with her quick wit and overly nurturing habits. It’s just Harry, with his terrible luck and uncanny ability to attract Voldemort’s attention even when he’s desperately trying not to.

And he did try, but Professor Binns had to go ruin everything. Harry’s palms were sweaty, the closer he got the table the more his insides twitches. Out of all of the tables, Tom could have chosen it had to be this one,Harry could vividly remember the trio’s many late-night adventures and secret meet ups they had here in this very nook.

_By the books on Alchemy and the theory behind Ancestral magic._

A selfish part of Harry would give anything to have them with him, to have his friends stand by him even if it was just for emotional support.

Harry realizes as he sits down across from Tom Riddle, as he watches the young dark lord lean forward slightly like he’s just barely containing himself from moving closer. That he was going to need a whole lot of emotional support.

“Harry.” Tom purrs, sending the younger male a disarming smile. Harry’s stomach felt queasy, can feel bile crawl up his throat. It wasn’t fair, it shouldn’t be allowed to be this good looking, to be this artfully handsome. Harry’s eyes followed the strong line of his jaw, admire the arch of his dark brows, Harry’s fingers twitch with the need to trace the head boy’s high aristocratic cheekbones. Everything about Tom Riddle was sharp, lethal, and painfully artificial. Perfectly crafted to lull you in a state of comfort, only to pounce on you the next second like a venomous snake.

_Even the devil has a pretty face._

“Riddle,” Harry says, his posture was stiffening under Riddle’s calculating gaze.

“I can’t remember the last time we’ve been able to sit and chat like this” Riddle says in an almost reminiscent tone. Harry shifts in his seat, anxious to move. He’d like nothing more than to just say fuck it and abscond to the most isolated part of the castle.

“Neither can I.” The-boy-who-lived forced out the most unnatural laugh, he slightly cringes at the sound.

Riddle opens his history of magic book, turning each page at a dreadfully slow pace. There was something about the young dark lord’s lax posture that made Harry’s heart combust with anticipation. He was too relax, to comfortable like he was right at home.

“Professor Binns originally wanted Sofia Turner to tutor you,” Tom said casually.

“Really, I wonder what made him change his mind.” Harry wonders aloud, struggling to swallow against his dry throat. He tried to appear nonchalant, but his posture wouldn’t relax no matter how much he willed it too.

“I did a little persuasion, nothing too drastic.”Riddle finally finds the chapter he was looking for, his long elegant fingers lovingly stoke the page.

“Why would you do that?” Harry whispers, almost afraid of the answer.

“Three months of silence,” Riddle looks up from the book, his dark brooding eyes piercing through Harry’s soul. “Why Harry, if you were a lesser man I’d say you were avoiding me.”

What the fuck? Harry would just like a day, one singular day where he doesn’t feel like a chicken running around with his head chopped off.

Harry lends forward, curiosity overriding any from self-preservation he might have. “And why would I want to avoid you?” He wanted to pat himself on the back for the sugary tone he used.

Riddle’s eyes briefly flicker to the scar resting on his forehead “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Harry’s mind stutters, too many thoughts came rushing to him at once. Trying to outsmart Voldemort was nearly impossible and quite frankly the-boy-who-lived was playing a game he didn’t even know the rules too. 

“Your first lesson will be on Davina Labonair, do you recall learning about her.”

Harry shifts in his seat, trying to remember anything to do with Divina. “Not really.” He says, wishing he paid more attention in class.

“Davina was a powerful witch, born in 1603 to a coven that believed magic came from the earth rather than one's self,” Riddle said while leaning back, resting against his chair.

“What made her more memorable than the rest?” Harry asks.

“She was England’s last harvest girl,” Riddle study’s Harry’s face looks for the slightest bit of expression. “Davina had one purpose in life, to die for the greater good.”

A cruel smile stretch’s across Riddle’s face “Sounds awfully familiar, don’t you think?”

Harry’s skin crawls his stomach coils painfully. There were so many things running through Harry’s mind, all of his thoughts stumble over each other. “What’s a harvest girl?” It wasn’t what he really wanted to ask but it was good enough for now.

“A harvest girl is a powerful witch, chosen from a young age to be sacrificed in an ancient ritual commonly referred to as ‘The Harvest’. Pure-bloods would perform this ritual every three centuries to prevent the birth squibs, to keep magic flowing in their line.”

Harry frowns. “That’s terrible.”

Riddle nods, lacing his fingers together as he carefully thought about his next sentence. “Tragic isn’t it? This powerful young witch so full of potential was expected to die, like a lamb breed for slaughter.”

“Everyone was okay with that?” Harry asks in disbelief, it was no wonder why muggles thought witch-craft was evil.

_Either must die at the hand of the other._

Riddle rests his elbows on the table, leaning his head against his hands. “Darling, okay doesn’t even begin to describe what they felt. the whole coven was ecstatic, they took delight in knowing that poor girl was going to lay at that altar with her heart carved out of her chest while they get to reap the benefits.”

Harry clenches the arms of his chair, he tries to focus on the sound of quills scratching against parchment, concentrates on the smell of wet ink, and the warm feeling of the sun as if bleeds through the stain glass window. Anything to calm his wildly thumping heart. It was cruel, inhuman killing an innocent girl just to prevent the birth of squibs. He wonders, what her parents felt, if they believed in the harvest so much that sacrificing their own daughter was just a small price to pay.

“They lied to her,” Riddle says. “They told her it was an honor, that her being killed for their selfish gain was a privilege.”

_For neither can live while the other survives._

“And did she... you know, die for them?” Harry questions. Dreading, almost afraid of the answer.

Riddle smirks a vicious, triumphant smirk that could turn a person into stone. “No, Davina took control of her life. She murdered her whole coven and anyone else who tried to use her.”

Oh.

_Oh..._

That wasn’t the ending Harry was hoping for or expected. “She killed them?”

Something unpleasant coils in his stomach as the cold truth reveals itself to him.

No one stood up for her. Not her friends, or family.

“It was her or them Harry. Davina did what any sane person would do... she chooses herself,” Riddle says in a bored, dismissive tone. “For extra credit you're going to write a ten-page essay on Davina Labonair.”

Harry could have choked, his lungs refusing to cooperate. “Ten pages, Don’t you think that's a little overkill?”

“Maybe,” Riddle hums in agreement “But I’m hoping Miss Labonair will teach you a valuable lesson in self-preservation.” He says while drinking in Harry’s features.

Harry felt sick, he was tempted to fling himself out of the nearest window just to get away from this monster. The library was no astronomy tower but it would have to do.

Harry would never admit it out loud but he was afraid of Voldemort, he knew of the horrors that man wanted to do to him. He has seen it whenever he closes his eyes. Being a Gryffindor doesn’t make you fearless, it means that no matter what you’re afraid of you’ll face it head-on overcoming your fear like it’s a physical entity that you can knockdown. Harry’s done it over and over again each time he faces Voldemort. He could feel his fight or flight reflexes kicking in, can feel the anxiety gripping at his heart. Yes, he’s afraid of Voldemort but Harry James Potter would never back down to him, will never admit defeat.

But Tom Riddle? He was completely different, he doesn’t fight the same as Voldemort does, he tortures people mentally not physically. Riddle isn’t the same monster that came crawling out of the cauldron, Harry doesn’t know how to fight this Voldemort and it scares him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue if this even makes the slightest bit of sense🥳😬! Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter especially Tom because you not see him next time.
> 
> P.s if you see any mistakes let me know and I’ll try to fix it!


End file.
